


I'll Be There For You

by FancyProfessor



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, M/M, holmescest
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-23
Updated: 2017-05-25
Packaged: 2018-09-11 07:10:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 1,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8965336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FancyProfessor/pseuds/FancyProfessor
Summary: Sherlock leaves the reception only to be met by a storm, an umbrella, and a familiar face.





	1. The Storm Begins

The rain had started to pick up as Sherlock left the reception. He was glad that he had popped his collar, a quirk he hadn’t done while he was at the wedding. Calmed down. He shook his head at the thought, but he couldn’t deny that it was true, he had let himself go, calmed down so that John could see the real him. He’d even help plan the wedding and look where that got him.

The rain was really starting to pour, soaking through his coat and starting to get to the cold where you only feel it in your bones. Sherlock let out a shiver as he took a drag from his smoke. He was so lost in his thoughts that he didn’t even realize when the rained seemed to have stopped. Looking around however he realized that it wasn’t the rain that had stopped but rather something was blocking it. Spying the holder of the umbrella he frowned. Of course. “Come to gloat?” He drawled out as he took another drag and let the smoke blow out through his nose.

Mycroft shook his head. “No. Gloating about a broken heart is not in my nature. I’ve come to offer my condolences. There was a reason I couldn’t make it to the wedding.”

 

Sherlock gave him a curious look before shaking his head. “Pride and arrogance do not court, brother. Do not worry, no one would have thought you the blushing bride.”

Mycroft frowned. “There is no need to be petty, here, Sherlock. I’m merely offering assistance. Merely offering a helping hand. But if you’d rather I didn’t. I can understand. Have a nice evening.” 

Mycroft turned to walk away, taking his umbrella and the warmth it carried with him. Leaving Sherlock to shiver and ponder his words.


	2. Brewing Tea (Sherlock's Perspective)

Sherlock had made his way home, slipping into the hot shower to relieve his aching and cold bones. “There is no need to be petty, here, Sherlock. I’m merely offering assistance. Merely offering a helping hand. But if you’d rather I didn’t. I can understand.” He shook his head to get the words out of his head, he didn’t want to think about it right then, in the shower, and most importantly naked. He shuddered in a way that was not completely disgust but was more confusion and a few other feelings he had tried to push down over the years. He didn’t want to think about it, the way Mycroft had formed the words and had chosen them. His brother was rarely so careless as to just throw words together. Sherlock shook his head again, he had to focus on the shower something other than his brother in the room that was too hot.

Turning the knob to cold he shivered, but the problem seemed to go away. He stood there for a few minutes before slipping out and toweling off, his mind a whir again as he racked his brain to figure out what his brother had meant. Sure he had tried to focus on something else but with a brain as quick as his, those things were gone in seconds.

He meandered to the bed, lying down and closing his eyes. “There is no need to be petty, here, Sherlock. I’m merely offering assistance. Merely offering a helping hand. But if you’d rather I didn’t. I can understand.” It wasn’t odd for him to lie awake in bed, but this was a different type and it was uncomfortable. Tossing he turned to his nightstand to look at his phone. No messages from Irene, good. No messages from John, well that was to be expected. He unlocked his phone scrolling through the options he had for the night, but none of them appealed. Finally, he decided calling his brother as late as it was would irritate him. “Good,” thought Sherlock. “Serves him right.”

Dial up the phone he waited until Mycroft’s voice answered on the other side and to his surprise it wasn’t a groggy one.  
“Hello, dear brother. What can I do for you?” His silken tone was not so bold as to be a purr but was much less harsh than he had used before when being woken at such late hours.

“I was thinking about what you said earlier,” Sherlock merely stated. He listened to the reaction of his brother and smirked, something had struck a nerve causing Mycroft’s breath to hitch ever so slightly. Just enough to give Sherlock the hint that he should continue. “And I think I’ll take that, what did you call it? A ‘helping hand’?” His smirk grew as he heard Mycroft fumble slightly on the other side of the phone.  
“Excellent,” Mycroft spoke out slowly. He waited for Sherlock and Sherlock waited for him. “I’ll see you soon then.” He said after a while.  
“I look forward to it.” Sherlock hung up the phone and smirked. He was almost certain he knew what Mycroft had meant now, all he had to do was plan.


	3. To Put the Tea in Teasing

Sherlock waited with the patience of a saint as his brother seemed to take longer and longer to arrive. Which didn’t make sense, to Sherlock. If his brother had been offering what he assumed the man was, then surely Mycroft would want to do it in the dark of night. And it was nearing four in the morning. 

Slipping out of bed he headed to the kitchen to make himself a cup of tea. He smiled as the kettle began to whistle and there was a soft knock on the door. Turning off the burner he moved to the door, dressed only in a sheet his hair a mess. “Well hello dear brother,” he spoke softly while he opened the door before moving back to his tea. “It took you a while.”

Mycroft merely nodded and slipped in. “I had a difficult time finding a place to park.” 

Sherlock merely chuckled. “Did you? On a street that never has anyone you had difficulty.” He smirked. “I’m sure it was just hard to find a place where you could slot your massive ego. Not all places can accommodate something that large.” He was careful to let his smirk fall as he taunted his brother, glad to see the blush that came over Mycroft’s face. “So why don’t you tell me, exactly what you meant, when you said you’d give me a helping hand.” He sauntered towards his brother, sheet wrapped around his waist as he sipped his tea. “Please, brother mine?” He looked up innocently.


	4. The Game Begins

Mycroft looked both appalled and intrigued. “Well I figured it was obvious.” He lied as he looked around the room. “You’ll be needing help keeping clean. It’s almost for certain that you’ll go off the rails again. You almost always do when change happens. We thought it was just a childish thing but I see you haven’t outgrown it.”

Sherlock pouted, slipping slightly and spilling some tea onto Mycroft’s trousers. It caused the man to jump back with a shout. “Sherlock!”

“Well it looks like your suit needs a wash.” Sherlock had the decency to look a tad sheepish. 

Mycroft glowered as he straightened himself out. “Where is your wash room?”

“Right this way.” Sherlock put his tea down as he headed towards the washroom. His sheet slipping off halfway there and he didn’t bother to pick it up. “Here we are. Do you need any help?”


	5. A Little Slip

Mycroft stood frozen for a moment, almost perfectly certain that Sherlock had done it on purpose but with no actual evidence that he was being actively teased by his younger brother, Mycroft said nothing. Merely stepping over the sheet as he followed Sherlock to the washroom and stepped into it. He frowned at how cramped the small space was. “You really do know how to pick terribly cramped spaces. Little cubby holes, you’ve been like this since you were a child.” Mycroft scolded. 

“Well perhaps I just like small places better. Easier to bury things were no one can find them. Isn’t that you’re motto? ‘Conceal don’t feel’? Besides, I’ve always found them warmer. And homier.” He smirked as he reached for Mycroft’s trousers. “Time to take these off. You need to wash them properly not just rub yourself through them.” He teased, with a wicked grin.

Mycroft was mortified.


	6. Pushing Down Dasies

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean! But I can take perfectly good care of myself!” Mycroft snapped back, swatting at Sherlock’s hand to reach for his own trousers. 

“Oh I’m sure you can but that doesn’t mean that a helping hand wouldn’t be appreciated. Right brother?” Once again Sherlock reached forward. He grasped Mycroft’s wrist and carefully took his pulse. Much faster than normal. So he wasn’t wrong. Perfect. 

“Let me help you. Let me make sure that you’re going to be ok. Just like you always check up on me.” He smirked as he pulled Mycroft’s hand away gently and undid Mycroft’s trousers, watching them fall to the floor. “There. Much better.”


End file.
